I wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs and cradle her face in my hands. “Jesus, Mel. You must know that doesn’t make it your fault.”
She sniffs. “But if I hadn’t acted like a spoiled brat—”
Jesus. I could murder that prick with my bare hands for making her carry this guilt around all these years. “You were thirteen years old. Acting out is what you’re supposed to do.”
“I know that, but … I don’t know, Bryce made me believe it, you know? He’s used it against me my whole life. And the truth is if it wasn’t for me … If we’d all gone along with Bryce’s plan to go to the beach that weekend, my dad wouldn’t be dead.”
A spark of suspicion ignites. “It was his idea to go?”
“Yeah, he was so mad when Dad decided to stay home with me. He even tried to convince me to tell him that I changed my mind, but I was desperate to go to that party.”
I band my arms around her and pull her closer. “And today?”
“He was just his usual asshole self. I doubt he could go a whole day without saying something cruel to me.”
“Would you like me to have a word with him?” And by a word, I mean I’ll break his jaw.
“God, no. Please don’t. I’m fine, and I won’t be seeing him for a while. I’d much rather spend time with your family.”
“Your family too now, Spitfire.”
She smiles, and Jesus fuck, it melts me. She calls me Ice, but all I feel is fire in my veins when I’m with her.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
NATHAN
Ihead for the office at the back of the Emerald Shamrock nightclub, looking for Shane Ryan, one of the four brothers who owns the club. He also happens to be one of my best clients.
He’s perched on the edge of his desk, and he eyes me over the rim of his coffee mug when I step inside his office and take a seat. He places the mug down and jerks his head toward the coffee machine behind him. “You want one?”
I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
He sits behind his desk and leans forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. His huge biceps strain the fabric pulled taut over his arms, and I instinctively rub my jaw, recalling how he almost knocked me on my ass the last time I saw him. I’ve been on the receiving end of this man’s right hook many times, just like he has mine.
“Haven’t seen you at the gym for weeks, buddy.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “Did I kick your ass a little too hard last time?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. “You fucking wish.”
He laughs. “Congratulations on the wedding, by the way. That was … unexpected.”
I shrug. “What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.”
That makes him laugh harder. “Yeah, right. You should bring her to the club sometime. Jessie would love to meet her.” Jessie is his wife, and she’s the reason I’m here.
I narrow my eyes. “And which club are you talking about?”
He smirks. “Whichever one you prefer, buddy.”
As well as owning the Emerald Shamrock, the most exclusive nightclub in New York, Shane and his brothers also own a private members-only club. Some would call it a sex club, but it’s much more sophisticated than that. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Well, let one of us know if you need a booth reserved.”
An image of me fucking Mel in one of the private booths at The Peacock Club burns itself into my brain, and I shake my head to clear it. I never used to be distracted this easily.
Shane smirks at me. “Enough pleasure. I assume you’re here to discuss business?”
“Yeah. I have something I need looking into. It’s not urgent, but it’s delicate. I can’t trust just anyone with it.”
He drums his fingertips on the desk. “You want Jessie to look into it?”
“Yeah.” His wife is the best computer hacker in the country, possibly the world. There’s no information this woman can’t dig up, and she does it faster and cleaner than anyone I’ve ever known. And given the business I’m in, I’ve known a lot of people who offer those kinds of services. There’s one guy in Los Angeles who comes close, but he lacks her finesse.
Shane’s lips twitch in a smirk. “You do understand that I have you on a retainer, Nathan, and not the other way around. Seems like I’m the one working for you these days.”
I hold his gaze, aware he’s only half joking. I’ve requested his wife’s services about half a dozen times in the past six months. And while Shane and I might be friends, he’s still the head of the Irish mob, and I don’t ever take his position in this city—or the things he’s capable of—for granted. “First, I’m not asking you to do it. It’s your wife whose services I require. And second, you’re keeping your nose so clean lately, it’s not my fault I have nothing to do for you.”
He rubs a hand over his stubble, and his lips curve as he sighs. “What can I say? The love of a good woman does something to a man.”
“Yeah. And I also know that your wife loves this sort of work, and that you and your brothers would do anything to make her happy, so it’s almost like I’m doing you a favor if you think about it.”
He chuckles. “You’re a cocky fucker, and I like that. But yeah, she does love it, and it sure as hell keeps her out of trouble. And if there is one thing my wife is good at finding, it’s fucking trouble.” He shakes his head.
“This is nothing dangerous. I just need information on a murder that happened seventeen years ago.”
His green eyes narrow. “And why is it delicate?”
